


Why Not to Trust Holidays from the British Government

by TeaNbrains (MindtheGap)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Post-His Last Vow, Sherlock Secret Santa, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindtheGap/pseuds/TeaNbrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mycroft Holmes offers you an all-expense paid holiday to the City by the Bay, you can't say no. Until you find his brother and colleague sat next to you on the plane. Watch Greg and John attempt to mind Sherlock in a foreign land when he's sent to do leg-work for Mycroft.<br/>Written as a gift for Sherlock Secret Santa 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vignette the First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shqrlock](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Shqrlock).



> This is written as a gift for Sherlock Secret Santa 2014 for Tumblr user Shqrlock. I hope this is to your liking as I'm not 100% what you like and you had a couple posts about SF and I love the City.

He groaned as he attempted to shift in his seat, reminding himself that his trousers were caught between still being wet and sandy or dried to an abnormal stiffness due to the sea salt. His jacket was a lost cause after careening with the fruit stand before getting drenched from pulling Sherlock back on the pier. His skin itched from the dried salt, and he was certain not even London air pollution would permeate the smell of Pacific ocean in his nostrils. The worst part was, he was better off than the two idiots trapping him in the middle seat. One with sand, kelp, and other sea life slipping free of his wild mass of curls, and the other grunting when he attempted to move and knocked his bum arm into the plane’s window.

Looking back on how this all came to be, there was one thought that had helped through the first half of the ten hour flight:

It was all Mycroft Holmes’ fault and he was going to insure that brolly carrying, self-important, aristocrat knew it.


	2. Vignette the Second

‘Bleeding hell! I knew that good for nothing, manipulative bastard had a reason for sending me on this flight!’ Greg groaned as he found his row and his all too familiar seat mates. John Watson shook his head and smiled apologetically from the middle seat. Sherlock glanced up from his phone, eyeing the Detective Inspector.  
  
‘Hmm, clearly you haven’t learned not to trust my meddlesome brother. He took the filing of your divorce papers and the recent string of unsolved cases along with your probation after attacking that assailant and deemed you should be another of my minders.’ Sherlock returned to staring at the screen of his mobile, his knees drawn to his chest and somehow allowing his long limbed body to scrunch into the window seat’s tight area. ‘He does not fully trust sending John to mind me alone unless he wanted to give the papers more fuel of our alleged dalliance. Also his minions demanded I have a more trustworthy and ethical babysitter in order to grant me this case. The small minded idiots think me a danger to international relations. Still hammering on about my shooting Magnussen as though that slime didn’t deserve it.’  
  
John winked up at Greg before reaching into his bag and pulling out a tumbler for hot tea. ‘Sherlock, this is mine to help with the altitude sickness. Don’t drink it, yeah?’ John grumbled as he left the lid filled with tea on his table. Without looking up, Sherlock’s hand darted out and tossed back the liquid, before nudging John’s arm with the empty cup. John begrudgingly refilled the cup, glancing back at Greg with a put upon expression. ‘And I wonder why people think we’re a couple.’  
  
‘It doesn’t help that you had moved back into Baker Street a month after getting married and got that annulment pushed through once your were able to prove Mary wasn’t who she said she was and the baby wasn’t yours, ya know, mate.’ Greg stated as he watched Sherlock's motions slowly slacken as he finished his second cup of tea.  
  
John quickly grabbed at the cup and mobile in the detective’s hands as he slumped onto John’s side, unconscious.  
  
’10 hour flight, did everybody a favor and mixed a sleeping draught so he wouldn’t get shoved off mid-Atlantic.’ John smirked as he slipped the items back into his bag and leaned back into his seat just as the pilot announced their position as next in line for take-off.  
  
Maybe the flight wouldn’t be as miserable as Greg had originally thought. Drugged Sherlock was always a source of entertainment.


	3. Vignette the Third

‘No….it’s…It’s attacking your face…John….’  
’  
John and Greg glance at the sleeping detective as he burrowed his head deeper into John’s shoulder and swatted weakly at the air before him.  
’  
‘Ridiculous…Let…shave it off…John…J-J-John…attacking…shave…’ Sherlock whimpered as he pawed at John’s arm in his sleep.  
’  
‘Smartest man I know, John.’ Greg tipped his whiskey glass at his friend with a grin. ‘Just wish I could record this.’  
’  
‘What? Oh, yes, well, we’ve got a return flight to do that. ‘ John grumbled as he pushed his head back into the chair and grinned at Greg. ‘Right now we need to focus on how to get to meet up with this Carsen fellow and get the artifact. He’s supposed to meet us at the bunkers across from the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s on the other side of the city from the airport. Supposedly the bunkers are a covert base built into the mountain side. Can’t imagine what a Librarian could be doing there nor what he could have that Mycroft deemed highly classified.’  
’  
Greg sipped his whiskey and eyed the snowman laugh as it got impaled by an icicle on the inflight movie. ‘At least we get a private jet back and don’t have to deal with watching this the entire flight again. If I have to hear half the cabin singing that damned Let It Go song one more time.’ John cringed as he recalled how the other passengers had kept the song going for almost a half hour.  
’  
‘At least they didn’t notice Sherlock grumbling about bringing that snowthing...last time we had to listen to that song he explained to the group of kids how animated snow creatures were implausible and the movie is a metaphor for depression.’ John sighed with a shake of his head at the memory. ‘Quickest he’s gotten a group of kids to cry this month.’


	4. Vignette the Fourth

‘Goddamnit, Sherlock!’ John’s voice echoed across the platform. It spoke volumes about the people of San Francisco that many people kept their faces glued to their electronic devices as the shorter man bellowed at the man currently standing stock still on the opposite side of the platform attempting to look innocently at his companion. Greg placed his head in his hands, attempting to suppress his laughter at this man’s antics.  
  
Sherlock eyed the people on the platform mumbling his deductions as he pocketed his prize and moved back towards John and Greg.’  
  
‘John, you should know it never hurts to have eyes in every city you visit.’ Sherlock stated as he straightened his posture. Greg peeked up from his hand, watching as John rolled his shoulders, shifting subtly into military mode and placed his hand palm up to the taller man. Sherlock hesitated in his step forward as he caught the shift in John’s stance.  
  
‘Either hand them over or stick them back in her bag.’ John whispered threateningly. ‘We do not have any connections in the police here and I’m not going to bail you out for being an idiot 45 minutes after landing in this country. Now hand it over, or,’ John sighed as the woman Sherlock had been standing beside earlier boarded the South-bound train. ‘Hand them over,’ John emphasized his statement with a look that Greg wished he could mimic. In his years working with Sherlock prior to John, this look would have done wonders in so many instances, and since John’s arrival-especially since Sherlock’s resurrection- this look had the detective quickly falling into line.  
  
A carton of cigarettes was placed in John’s outstretched hand as Sherlock stepped past him to await the arriving BART . ‘Not for me, it’s a good bargaining source for working with new homeless network connections.’ Sherlock muttered as he stepped into the train and turned to face his minders.  
  
Exchanging a quick look of frustrated amusement with Greg, John slipped the cigarettes into his jacket pocket and braced himself as the train jerked toward the Embarcadero.


	5. Vignette the Fifth

‘One would think a city that’s not even 8 miles long would be less of a hassle to navigate!’ Greg groaned as he pushed stared out at the view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the Palace of Fine Arts. John was sighed as he readjusted his left arm in the sling they had made up after they stopped running from Fisherman’s Wharf and the very angry robotic man.  
  
‘It would be easier if your mad flatmate wasn’t heckling the street vendors. Cor, I can’t believe that robot man tried to brain me with the musician’s steel drum. Damn well did some damage to my arm when I got stuck in the middle, like always.’ John griped as he cringed over his arm. ‘The quicker we meet this Carsen, get the artifact and the quicker we can get back to the hotel and enjoy some semblance of a holiday.’  
  
‘We can catch a free bus from the Presidio to the base of the Bridge then walk it to the northern end and make our way up hill to the bunkers.’ Sherlock stated as he approached them, while pocketing his mobile in the pocket of his great coat. ‘Carsen will be waiting our arrival on the outlook.’ Greg noticed how Sherlock’s stare flickered from Greg to John to John’s injured arm back to Greg in an attempt to look not bothered by the injury his companion had received due to his actions.  
  
‘What else did His Majesty have to share with us?’ Greg asked as they started walking towards a set of buildings resembling an old military base across the street. Sherlock shrugged as he kept his head forward, his eyes moving to take in all the new information.  
  
Greg received a non-committal noise and decided to just enjoy the walk. He was starting to second guess the length of his gracious holiday. He knew one could never truly trust any situation when a Holmes was involved and having two involved meant logic would be too convoluted.  
  
‘Look, I do have a couple places I want to see before we leave.’ John glanced over at Greg with a nod. ‘Need to pick up some presents and grab a couple souvenirs for myself. Maybe grab a drink after dealing with you lot.’ Greg stopped mid stride and glanced back and forth between the other two men. ‘You don’t think Mycroft booked us all in the same room, do you?’ John shared a questionable look with Sherlock who proceeded to shrug and return to walking through the grassy hill towards a bus stop.


	6. Vignette the Sixth

They were running down Market. Greg wasn’t sure how it had happened. An hour earlier they had secured the small artifact from Carsen, listening to his request to inform Mycroft about his promise to let Mycroft have a shot at Excalibur next time Mycroft actually did his own leg work. Carsen had won Sherlock’s approval with that statement and somehow they had made it onto a bus heading back into the heart of the city. They were disembarking, when Greg was shoved out the door at the same time Sherlock yelped in surprise before bolting after the woman who had pushed past Greg.  
  
The minute Sherlock had started sprinting down the road, John and Greg had taken off after him. Greg could just make out the woman clutching an object to her chest. Greg watched as she cut across the street nearly missing a MUNI bus. Sherlock froze on the corner of the street looking up and down the street.  
  
‘Damnit!’ Sherlock muttered as he rubbed at his temples. Greg and John reached Sherlock’s side and breathed deeply, unsure when Sherlock would take off again. ‘She grabbed the damn thing and I don’t know this city.’  
  
‘There!’ John pointed down the street and started running towards a building with a clock tower, the Bay Bridge visable in the background. Sherlock and Greg took off shortly after. They weaved between pedestrians, trying to keep an eye on the shorter man. The park they cut through was filled with vendors trying to sell clothing and jewelry, people loitered and refused to move, grumbling as Sherlock bit out sharp and quick deductions to the people who got in his way.  
  
John was dodging a trolley that was chiming it’s bell angrily. He quickly ran into the Ferry building and Greg lost sight of him as he entered the crowd of people. He glanced back at Sherlock who had paused and was searching the outside of the building furtively.  
  
‘Oh!’ Sherlock took off again, ‘this way, Graham!’ Greg rolled his eyes and was after the mad genius’ fluttering coat tails. They ran straight through the building, Greg yelling apologies to the people he stepped on, Sherlock silent and intent as he kept an eye on his target.  
  
It wasn’t until they pushed through the back door near a Peet’s coffee, that Sherlock made a sharp left and yelled out in surprise as he went straight through a fruit stand. Greg landing on top of him. Greg apologized profusely to the woman who started yelling at him in a foreign language. Sherlock quickly shoved some notes towards the woman, not bothering to decipher between the illogically developed and hard to differentiate between American bills. Greg apologized again, attempting to catch Sherlock’s attention as he looked at his fruit covered clothing.  
  
‘Get off me!’ A woman yelled near the ferry entrance. Greg caught site of John holding onto the artifact with a stern look upon his face.  
  
‘Give it back, you thief!’ The woman tried to bite at John’s hand as she continued to struggle with him. People were starting to crowd around them and Sherlock was making his way quickly towards the commotion. Greg followed quickly, watching as John and the woman continued to fight and move closer to the edge of the dock. He was grateful for the gate that was set up, protecting them from going over into the ocean.  
  
Granted, he wasn’t expecting the woman to spin john and shove him into the gate before ducking down to shove her shoulder into his chest and lift him. In the next moment the woman was on her side and John huddled around the object as Sherlock’s forward momentum sent him flipping over the gate and straight into the Pacific.  
  
‘Sherlock!’ John bellowed from his crouched position, he had landed in a kneeling position on the woman and holding onto the artifact. Greg took a look at him and the police who were moving forward to apprehend the woman before he made his way to the gate. Sherlock was hanging onto the bottom of the dock, spluttering as he looked up at Greg with a shocked expression. Greg leant over the edge to grab his hands and help him back on to the dock.  
  
Greg groaned as Sherlock landed bodily on top of him dripping ocean water and kelp onto him.  
  
‘Never again.’ Greg groaned as he and Sherlock looked back at John who was quick talking their way out of being obtained by the local police force.


	7. Vignette the Seventh

John had made a valiant attempt to avoid arrest which failed horribly. After that John made the famous one phone call that American sitcoms always portrayed when a character was arrested to Mycroft. Greg and Sherlock couldn’t hear a word that John had said, but both men were too busy attempting to wring out the salt water from their clothing and hair.  
  
‘Well, Mycroft is doing his best and we’ll be expected to be on a private flight home tonight.’ Greg looked up as John readjusted his arm in the sling. The wince was more exaggerated than when he had originally been clobbered by the steel drum.  
  
‘Thanks for that, mate.’ Greg muttered as he leaned back on the bench.  
  
‘Hey, are you John Watson the blogger, John Watson?’ A uniformed man asked as he approached the holding cell. John looked back and nodded. The officer smiled widely as he motioned for some of his coworkers to join him at the cell. ‘Amazing! Were you here on a case? When will it go on your blog?’ The man asked quickly.  
  
‘Sorry, ignore my partner, he gets a bit overexcited when it comes to anything pertaining to your blog. I have to listen to him read different posts every time we’re having a lull in activity.’ A petite blonde haired female stated as she leaned against the cell and rolled her eyes.  
  
‘No worries, I’m just surprised to hear people outside of London know about my blog.’ John threw a quick smug smile back at Sherlock before stepping closer to the female officer.  
  
‘Oh, we were all paying attention after Sherlock’s suicide. Mark here has just been obsessed with everything London since we were in undergrad together.’ She rolls her eyes before looking sadly at John. ‘I can completely empathize about people thinking you’re a couple with an odd ball partner. At least you two don’t have to worry about mothers pushing for grandchildren.’ John chuckled in agreement. Mark stepped forward and offered his hand to John, which John took in a firm handshake.  
  
‘Look, if we had known you were who you are we wouldn’t have locked you up, but now we have the paperwork in so we have to leave you in until bail is posted.’  
  
‘That’s fine, we’ll just wait. Have a friend helping us out.’  
  
‘Is it Sherlock’s brother!’ Mark asked excitedly as he looked back at Sherlock and Greg. Sherlock groaned and shook his head petulantly. ‘I’ve always wondered if he’s as creepy as your blog makes him out to be!’  
  
‘Hey! You lot, get back to work!’ The group of officers quickly turned and went back to work as an older man entered and looked at the three men in the holding cell. ‘Well, it’s your lucky day, we’ve got notice you’re cleared for release. Let’s not have you causing any more commotions in our city, ok?’ John and Greg nodded quickly and shuffled Sherlock past the man as he opened the door and guided them back to the streets.  
  
As they stepped out of the door, the female office approached John with a confident smile and handed him a business card. ‘Look, I don’t know how long you’re in town and I wouldn’t normally be this forward if I had a better idea of how long I might have, but I saw the site with you and those red underwear and I was wondering if you might give me a chance to see what they would look like on my bed room floor.’ Greg chuckled as John’s ears turned red and he blinked quickly before settling his shoulders into a relaxed posture and smiling back at the officer.  
  
‘Eh, look,’ he glanced down at the card in his hand briefly, ‘Gabby, I appreciate the offer, I’m just not here long at all. I’m flattered, thank you, but I’ll have to, you know, decline your offer.’ John smiled apologetically before turning back to join his group. He stopped and looked back at Gabby. ‘What red pant site are you talking about?’ John asked perplexed and Gabby winked before waggling her fingers good bye and headed back into the precinct.  
  
‘Right. So, did you hear that, Sherlock, my blog is internationally read.’ John grinned as he stretched his neck to the side and pocketed the business card. Sherlock glared at John and refused to speak. ‘Alright there, Sherlock?’ John turned a doctorily gaze upon his friend. Sherlock sighed and offered a small shrug.  
  
‘Lucky you didn’t get hurt too badly going over that railing, huh?’ Greg joked as he nudged Sherlock with his elbow before shivering into his wet jacket as a breeze brushed past him. Sherlock glared at him before moving towards the BART station stairs.


	8. Vignette the Eighth

John eyed Sherlock warily. The man had not spoken since he had been pulled from the water. It would not have been concerning were the man in his mind palace, but this wasn’t a normal strop and John found the more closely he watched his friend, the more inwardly focused Sherlock would sink. Greg had suggested that they use the remaining couple of hours before they would be needed at the airport to split up and get to do at least one touristy thing in the city.  
  
Sherlock had continued to refuse to speak and all three had headed in different directions after agreeing to meet at the airport at 9pm.  
  
When they returned, John was carrying a bag with a few records. While Greg carried a bag filled with I (heart)San Francisco shirts for the people whom he’d promised to get presents. Sherlock sauntered up, his great coat finally dried off, if not a bit more stiff. He carried a small white bag filled with macaroons shaped like a penis and a woman’s torso, various shreds of coconut used to represent body hair. John stared in shock and Sherlock grinned cheekily before sauntering past the gaping men and into the airport.  
  
After getting to their gate, Sherlock looked up at John with a grin that Greg knew to be asking for trouble. ‘John.’ Sherlock’s voice was nonchalant and John jerked his head up, surprised to hear the baritone voice. Sherlock held out a closed fist in front of John, who held out his hand to take what might be hidden in the large hands.  
  
‘What the hell, Sherlock!’ John demanded as Greg burst into laughter at the sight of a pair of red pants landing in his hand. Greg was familiar with the site that Gabby had mentioned, almost all of his unit was familiar with the fan sites for both Sherlock and John. The one that always made John uncomfortable with the drawings and superimposed pictures of him in red pants. Until this moment, Sherlock had never acknowledged the sites and Greg had taken that as a lead to not make mention or use it as a way to take the piss with John.  
  
‘It’s a unique San Francisco gift.’ Sherlock sniffed as though he was offended by John’s reaction. ‘I ran into your friend from the bridge who dragged me into this cookie shop and demanded I get these for you. How could I not after that lovely officer made such an overt comment about them.’ Sherlock grinned slyly, avoiding John’s gaze. ‘Also, the anatomically accurate chocolate covered biscuits should do wonders for Mycroft’s diet. A thanks for his offering this case to us.’  
  
John shoved the pants in his record bag and glowered at Sherlock who sat up primly and ignored John’s reaction. Greg sighed, standing to board the plane as the desk attendant called their section.  
It was going to be a long flight.


	9. Vignette the Ninth--Epilogue

‘Detective Inspector, I take it you were not impressed with your adventures in San Francisco.’ Mycroft’s public school accent wrapped around each word making the statement sound much more posh than it had any right to be.  
  
‘Right, Mycroft. From here on out, you tell me when I’m not getting a real holiday and being sent to babysit those two.’ Mycroft continued to sift through the file on his desk without glancing up at Greg or offering him a seat.  
  
‘You would not have agreed had it not been offered in the manner it was. You keep them balanced on the scene.’ Mycroft paused to turn a paper over, sighing softly. ‘At least, you had previously. Now the committee is concerned about having Sherlock do any work, and we all know how tenuous he is when ennui sets in without cases.’ Greg sighed, used to this manipulative behavior from the elder Holmes.  
  
‘Next time, fair warning, alright, Myc?’ Greg sighed before dropping a white bag on the file in Mycroft’s hands. ‘A gift from your brother.’ He added as he turned he saw himself out.  
  
Mycroft watched Lestrade’s retreating figure than looked into the bag, pulling out a stick with a chocolate covered and anatomically accurate female torso. He sighed and shook his head and noticed a note within. He picked it out, recognizing his brother’s scrawl:  
  
To appease both your diets, brother mine.--SH


End file.
